I See The Light
by blue-eyesblonde
Summary: When a young girl runs away from home, a chance encounter will alter the course of her life, and so many others, forever. Will she find what she was looking for out there or will she come to regret having ever left home in the first place? A loosely-based retelling of Rapunzel. (Blueshipping Mizushipping More!) Rated M for violence/sex in future chapters.
1. Prologue

_A/N: Hello! My name is Em and welcome to my first blue/mizu fic! [I might throw in some more ships later, too...!] This is just a short prologue, but I've got a lot of ideas in the works, so bear with me while I get the characters and the setting down. I'm always looking to better my writing, so please feel free to review or message me and let me know what you think! Just be respectful, okay? I guess the best way to introduce this fic is as a loosely-based retelling of the Rapunzel fairytale. Hopefully, that'll make more sense as we get further in, but for now, enjoy!_

_Prologue_

"Once upon a time, there lived a man and a woman who had long, in vain, wished for a child...", the boy began.

He paused briefly to look over at the young girl, silent and still, except for her breathing. A wave of guilt fell over him as he looked at her. She was so small. She looked so fragile, like he could have broken her in two with just a flick of his wrist. She was much younger than him, too, no doubt. She was still just a child. Ten, maybe? He was almost a man now- at fourteen.

Almost a man. Almost. But, for as much of an adult as he felt, he still felt guilty.

"We're not sure...Has a broken arm, a few scratches, and..."

"What about...?"

"She's been out quite a while."

"We'll have to see when she comes to."

He heard one of the doctors exchanging words with his caretaker, Miss Takana, just outside of the cracked door. He sighed deeply as he looked through the door's thin window just in time to see the doctor walking away. When silence again filled the air, the boy turned his attention back to the book in his lap.

It was than that he heard footsteps approaching the doorway once again._ Who is it this time? Her parents? _The thought made his stomach turn. _They're gonna kill me..._ The footsteps stopped just outside the door.

"No, I'm sorry. We haven't found any records."

"Nothing?"

"No, she's just a 'Jane Doe'...We'll have to wait a bit longer for the rest of the test results."

It wasn't her parents. It sounded like a nurse this time. There was a pause in the speech coming from the hallway. He leaned over towards the door, trying his best to eavesdrop. His caregiver spoke.

"What's this?"

"This was all we found on her, but there are no names. Just a date."

"These must be her parents."

For a moment, the talking ceased, allowing the boy to turn his attention back to the book in his lap. He'd asked for some reading material while he awaited the results, but, being in a children's wing, the nurse had simply handed him a worn collection of fairy tales. _How lame. _He'd thought about just setting the book aside, but had decided to read aloud to the young girl. It was the least he could do after startling her the way he had.

"But, one day...", he continued, "It appeared that God was about to grant their wish."

Before he had time to read much further, the door creaked open and in came Miss Tanaka. He felt her gaze fall on him, but he didn't look up. He just sat in the chair beside the bed, thumbing through the worn pages of 'Rapunzel' nervously. Miss Tanaka grabbed a chair from the other side of the room and pulled it up to sit next to him. After several moments of awkward silence, the boy finally mustered the courage to speak.

"Well?", he asked her.

"It could be worse."

"Don't say that! I want to hear 'Fine! Fine! Everything will be fine!'", he retorted, waving his arms about wildly as he replied.

Miss Tanaka huffed a slight laugh at his expense, shaking her head as she did so. She then looked her charge dead in the eye, suddenly serious.

"I will be expecting you to help with her medical fees. We're low enough on funds as it is."

"I can do that."

"And, I'd like for you to come by tomorrow and see if she's made any improvement. The doctor expects she'll be awake by then."

"I can do that, too."

The boy turned away from his caregiver to look back at the girl once more. She looked so...peaceful. Her pale skin and almost colorless hair seemed to blend together with the mess of white blankets she was wrapped in. He wanted her to wake up. He wanted to apologize. The wait was killing him.

As the two sat there, the boy saw Miss Tanaka placed a small, crinkled photograph on the table beside the young girl's bed. Before he had a chance to inquire, Miss Tanaka spoke.

"It's time we headed home. It'll be daylight before we even get to the car if we stay much longer and you have school in the morning."

At that, Miss Tanaka rose and began to gather her things as well as some of his. She handed him his coat, which he threw on halfheartedly, and headed towards the door. When she got there, she paused to look and make sure he was following. After he'd donned his coat, he'd paused to look at the photograph she had placed on the side table. The picture showed a young man and woman, probably in their twenties, standing in front of some old building. The woman was short and petite, with long dark hair. She was making a peace sign at the camera. The man was tall and thin. He had his arm wrapped around her. They were both smiling, their eyes squinting in the bright sunlight.

_I hope they come soon. I need to apologize to them, too._

With that, he set down the old fairy tale book on the side table, the photograph now being used as its bookmark. He smiled to himself, strangely satisfied, as he looked her over once more. He'd finish the story for her when she woke up. After all, It'd be much more fun reading to someone who was actually listening.

"We'll finish it tomorrow, then.", he told the young girl.

"Mahad.", he heard his caregiver say.

"I'm coming."

Then, they were gone.


	2. Chapter I

_A/N: Okay, so here's the first real chapter. We'll be getting back to that flashback at some point, I promise. Also, I forgot to mention this last time, but I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or anything related to it and I'm not making money off of this story. It's just for fun. :) Is that a good enough disclaimer?_

_Chapter I_

"KISARA."

Though Mahad heard no vocal response, he was sure she'd received the message when he heard a loud '_thunk_' coming from the adjacent room. Sure enough, a few moments later Kisara found her way out of her room and entered the kitchen, hopping on one leg as she attempted to walk and put on a sock at the same time.

"I told you I needed to leave by 8:00 today."

"I shnow! I'm sho shorry!", she replied, falling into the nearest chair and scrambling for her shoes.

Her muffled speech caused him to look away from the morning news. He was forced to restrain his laughter when he saw the toothbrush hanging from her mouth, a trail of toothpaste slowly forming at the sides. As soon as she finished tying her shoes, she rushed off towards the sink to finish brushing her teeth.

"I think you have time to brush your teeth properly. No one's going to want to interact with your morning breath, anyway.", he told her, leaning against the kitchen counter as he watched her attempt to put herself together.

"It's not _that_ bad...", she replied, after emerging from the bathroom, refreshed.

"Says you.", he snorted.

She turned around just long enough to shoot him a playful glare and then returned to searching for her things. In truth, he wasn't at all surprised by her lateness. He'd always had difficulty getting her up for school before she'd graduated. Before she had moved in with him, Kisara seemed to have had no trouble waking up before dawn. Miss Tanaka had seen to that. However, Mahad, admittedly, was a pushover. He'd let her sleep as long as he possibly could and, over time, her need for sleep had won the battle against him.

"So, classes don't start for a few more weeks. Where exactly are you going so early, anyway?", she asked him, a slight yawn in her voice.

She slid a piece of bread into the toaster and began rummaging through the refrigerator. She finally settled on an apple and bit into it fiercely as she sat down at the table, waiting for the toaster to finish.

"I told you last week, _remember_?", he replied.

A startled look of confusion crossed her face. She knew she would never forget something important.

"When?", she asked, feeling slightly guilty that she couldn't recall the incident.

"When I got back from the grocery store. Oh, wait, you were playing that new game, weren't you? That explains it.", he replied sarcastically, as rolled his eyes at her.

It was then that she remembered a fuzzy exchange between the two of them the week before. The conversation had consisted mostly of "Mhmm." And "Okay.", as Kisara had found herself absorbed in one of her video games. Such exchanges were commonplace whenever a new game was brought into the apartment.

"Oh, right...", she mumbled in return. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

When the toast popped out of the toaster, Mahad grabbed it and headed over to the table. He sat down across from her and began going through his school bag while she ate. The toast sat peacefully on a napkin on the table in front of him.

"Don't sweat it. I was only teasing you. I mean, I guess it's not _that_ big of a deal that I finally landed that assistant research position over at the Domino Museum.", he told her, a wide smirk on his face.

"You did what?!", she asked, shocked. "That's wonderful!", she replied, smiling. "Congratulations."

She reached out to grab her toast, a wide smile still on her face. Just to be difficult, Mahad pulled the napkin away from her, causing her to glare at him once again.

"It's about time I heard a 'Congrats' around here. I was beginning to think you didn't care about my feelings at all", he said jokingly while waving the piece of toast in front of her as he spoke.

She reached out and snatched it away from him, rolling her eyes. Her guilt instantly melted away and was replaced by a warm feeling of excitement that she felt for her friend.

"Now, I know you know that isn't true.", she told him pointedly.

"Whatever you say, Miss Kisara.", he replied, sarcasm still heavy in his voice.

_Miss Kisara..._

She used to hate it when he called her that. More recently, though, she used the nickname as an excuse to reminisce about their adventures together over the years. If there was one thing she knew, it was that she would always be 'Little Miss Kisara' to him.

After the girl had finished her meager breakfast, Mahad rose and began collecting his things. Kisara followed suit. She hurriedly grabbed her bag and a comb, so she could brush her hair in the car. Mahad turned the television off and turned to his roommate to make sure she was ready. When they were, they both headed out the door.

"I'm going to drop you off at the library. Mana should be there already. I _know_ she had some work to finish.", he explained as the drove through the city.

"Knowing you, she's probably been there all night.", Kisara stated, plainly.

"Maybe if she didn't procrastinate, she wouldn't _have_ to be there all night.", he replied plainly. He paused for a moment and the continued. "Anyway, you can encourage her to work efficiently for a few hours before you head off to work."

Despite the fact that it was still technically holiday, Mana had been hard at work for most of that time. At the end of her first year in university, she had applied to work as a student assistant for the history department and had been assigned to Mahad for the following year, much to his chagrin. Kisara, of course, was thrilled by the news. After all, two of her best friends would be working together and it would certainly give them all quite a bit to discuss on a daily basis. Still, as happy for Mana as she was, Kisara couldn't help but feel a little jealous that she wasn't having quite the same luck in her own life.

Kisara had met Mana in high school, the two being in the same class, and they had hit it off right away. The two of them made a great team. Their personalities were complimentary in all the right ways. Where Kisara was shy, Mana was incredibly outgoing. Where Kisara was often overwhelmed by life, Mana had this uncanny ability to keep it cool. She never sweat the little things and that was something about her that Kisara greatly admired.

The two had remained close even after graduation. They'd spent that first holiday of freedom having all kinds of fun together. When Mana had been accepted to a local university, her hope to study history and become a professor someday. That was where their journey together ended. For Mana, it had been easy finding her way into higher education. She'd had the test scores and the funds to get her right to the top of the short acceptance list. For Kisara, however, things hadn't gone so well.

"Alright. Out you go.", Mahad said as they pulled up in front of the library. "I'll see you for dinner."

"Good luck today! I can't wait to hear about it.", Kisara replied.

"Please! You don't have to feign your interest in ancient occult activity for my sake.", he replied, smirking.

"Yeah, I guess you're right.", she replied, laughter in her voice. "I'll see you later!"

With that, he waved and drove away.

Kisara headed into the library and took the stairs to the third floor. She knew where Mana would be hiding and, sure enough, there she was, in the back corner away from the windows...asleep. The girl's head lay flat on the table on top of an open book about Mesopotamia. It was clear, by the look of her, that she had indeed been at it all night, or at least, what of the night she hadn't been asleep. Kisara took a seat across from her friend and sighed with a smile.

"I think you could use a breather.", she announced loudly.

"Wha-Ah! What are you doing here this late?!", Mana replied, scrambling to appear studious as quickly as she could.

"Late? It's 8:30 in the morning.", she replied. There was a pause as Mana's face dropped. She let herself fall face-first right back into her book of a pillow. "Don't tell me you were here all night? Did you at least get something accomplished?"

"Ohhh! I'm so mad! I can't believe I fell asleep here and no one woke me up!"

"Well, you _did_ pick the furthest, darkest corner of the floor to hide in. It's no wonder no one's come by.", Kisara replied with a gentle smile.

"That damn roommate of yours! He's trying to kill me!"

"He's not trying to _kill_ you, surely.", Kisara replied, pausing while she thought of some excuse. "He's just...trying to make sure you're getting the most out of your education! That's it." She smiled, pleased with her quick thinking.

"Uhuh.", the dark-haired girl scowled. "School hasn't even started yet! Why does he need me to go through all this paper work? I'm just going to have to go through it in class all over again!"

"Well, you are getting paid."

"Not enough.", Mana interjected.

"And, it's definitely helping him out. He's going to have a lot less free time now that he finally got his dream job."

"You mean he got that job at the museum?"

"Yeah! He started this morning. He dropped me off on the way here to check on you before I head to work."

"How sweet...", she replied, a feigned look of disgust on her face. She stuck her tongue out as she thought about him.

Both girls (_and_ Mahad) knew the story of how Mana had first gotten her eyes fixated on the wonderful world of ancient history. After the two girls had become friends in high school, Kisara had gotten the privilege of introducing her new best friend to her roommate. Their meeting had been along time in the making before it had actually occurred. Kisara had avoided having Mana over for as long as possible, embarrassed by what the girl would think of her living with no parents and a guy who was clearly not her older brother (though he might as well have been.) Of course, Mana would settle for nothing less than getting herself over to Kisara's place and so the meeting had become unavoidable. The moment Mana laid eyes on Mahad, she was in love or so she had claimed. Now, she vehemently denied having ever said those words. The thought made Kisara laugh every time it was brought up. Regardless of how many times she denied it, they both knew the truth and that was all that mattered.

"You should be grateful, you know. He is a huge reason you got into the program in the first place. He wrote you a wonderful recommendation.", Kisara added.

"I know...", Mana replied, defeated. "If he could just be a _little_ less of nitpicky, obsessive-compulsive jerk!"

"He's not nitpicky. He's a genius."

"You say genius. I say crazy fanatic. Tomato, tomäto."

Despite her unconventional way of showing admiration, Mana couldn't deny Mahad's uncanny talent for the study of religious history. Despite having grown up in an orphanage, his academic ability had landed him one of the top spots in his class along with an 'all-expenses-paid trip' through university. Before his time there was up, he'd already had more than ten articles published on various, little-known facts about this ancient religious practice or that one. He'd even helped one of his professors publish a book about fortune telling through the ages. It was because of this that he'd been asked to continue his studies further. Thus, during Mana's first year at university, he began teaching part time, while he furthered his education. Now, he'd landed a coveted position on the research board at the Domino museum. There didn't seem to be anything he couldn't accomplish.

"He's going places, though. I'll give him that.", Mana finally admitted, smiling at her friend across the table.

Kisara smiled gently in return, as her eyes fell towards the table. A sadness radiated from her all of the sudden that caused her friend to reach out a hand and respond.

"Don't worry, kid. You'll get your turn."

"Uhuh.", she replied, under her breath.

Kisara grabbed one of the books that Mana had discarded during her nightly escapades in the library and began absent-mindedly flipping through the pages. Mana looked concerned, but didn't say anything. She knew her friend well enough to know when to speak and when to let things lie. Still, it pained her not being able to cheer her up. A few minutes passed in silence until, finally, Kisara spoke again.

"I just keep wondering...", she started. "When do I get my chance?"

Mana didn't respond. She simply kept flipping through her notes and books and looking up at her friend, seemingly lost in thought.

"Of course...", she continued. "I guess I don't even know chance I'd want anyway. My plans has always been as simple as 'do anything something other that what I'm doing right now'."

At that, Mana laughed. Kisara began to laugh a little, too, hearing how ridiculous she sounded. How could someone complain about something when they didn't even know what they wanted to begin with? Suddenly, she felt like a child and began laughing at herself even harder.

"You'll know it when I see it.", Mana replied, laughter in her voice. She then continued. "Now, get your butt of that chair and start helping me with this mountain of paper work before I drown in it."

"You got it."


	3. Chapter II

A/N: This chapter we'll be introducing the beginnings of the plot (sort of.) It's still going to be a little bit before we actually dive head-first into the action, but...hey, I'm working on it. I hope you enjoy and thank you for the kind words! I really, really appreciate it. :D

_Chapter II_

It was half past six when Kisara's shift ended and she was allowed to pack up and head home. While the daily life of a part-time, grocery store employee wasn't necessarily difficult, Kisara somehow always found herself exhausted by the end of the day. Kisara took off her bright green apron with a sigh of relief and gently folded it up into her bag. it was then that Kisara noticed she had four missed messages. One of them was from Mahad. It simply read that he was going to stop by and grab dinner for them both on his way home from work. The message brought a large smile to her face. He'd had a good day. She could tell.

The other three messages were quickly scrawled out across the screen, each one from Mana. Each had been sent one after the other. They read consecutively:

CALL ME.

I FIGURED OUT YOUR LIFE!

NBD... 3 :D

She shook her head and sighed as she read her best friend's attempts at kindness. While she didn't want to get her hopes up, Kisara did acknowledge that the sentiment was sweet. It seemed that Mana had spent her afternoon in search of Kisara's future as a return favor for her help that morning. Although Kisara felt her kindness unnecessary, she couldn't help but be thankful that she had, no doubt about it, the best friend a girl could ever ask for.

Kisara took the train home. It was a quiet and uneventful ride. When she arrived at her stop, she took the usual three blocks down to her and Mahad's tiny apartment. Up the stoop and three flights of stairs later, she arrived at her front door, only to hear muffled shouting coming from the other side.

_Mana..._

When she opened the door, she saw a disgruntled Mahad, equipped with steak knife in one hand and an oven mitt in the other. After a short moment of panic, Kisara made her way into the room, setting down her things by the door and taking off her shoes. Judging by Mahad's expression, it seemed that Mana had present for the entire cooking process. Kisara instantly dreaded the results. Before she had time to comment, however, an energetic Mana flew towards the doorway.

"Kisara, you're home! Look! Look what I found!", she shouted, shoving a large, laminated poster into the girl's face.

Kisara took a moment to move back, before accepting the posted from her friend and proceeded to read it as she took off her shoes by the doorway. Mana's breath was held in suspense. She looked like she was about to explode.

"It'd be nice if you gave her a chance to read the damned thing, you know...", Mahad spoke, his eyes fixated on his student.

It was then that the bold-faced text on the poster made itself clear.

KAIBA CORP.  
AMATUER DESIGN CONTEST

WINNER WILL BE ELIGIBLE FOR AN INTERNSHIP  
WITH THE TOP INTERNATIONAL  
TECHNOLOGICAL DESIGN TEAM  
(MAX. 9 MONTH DURATION)  
COMPENSATION: TBA

When she had finished reading all the fine print, a somewhat blank-faced Kisara turned to her friend and roommate. She wasn't really sure what to make of the situation.

On one hand, Mana was clearly convinced that this was _the_ opportunity, Kisara's chance to make it big. Not only would she have a killer resume from such an opportunity, but the potential of the unannounced 'compensation'.

On the other hand, that same unannounced compensation could also be nothing more than a small lump sum or, even worse, minimum wage with no benefits, no vacation, nothing. Then there was the problem of even coming up with something impressive enough to catch the eye of the most recognized gaming company on the international market.

Sure, Kisara knew she was intelligent. She had a good mind for the arts and happened to be quite the problem-solver when she was pushed to do so. She had a knack for putting together events and more than once she'd even volunteered to organize a charity fundraiser down at the grocery. She'd even designed the flyers all by herself and gone about hanging them all over the area. But still, her true artistic talents were a secret she wasn't sure she was willing to share and not one of her public feats was enough to make Kaiba Corp. flinch, let alone offer her an internship.

"Mana, thanks, I really appreciate it. I do, but...", she started. "I don't know. I don't see how I could possibly enter this.", Kisara answered softly.

She set the poster down on the table as she made her way over to check on Mahad, who was making a last-minute attempt to pull dinner together...or what was left of it after Mana had gotten involved.

"Are you kidding?! You're the most creative person I know!", Mana retorted, clearly displeased with Kisara's reaction.

"And, you know _how_ many people?", Kisara inquired, slight sarcasm in her voice.

"Ugh! You know what I mean! We both know you're good at making things happen. And, you may not be a computer geek, but you can hold your own. After all, who's my go-to girl for when my computer won't cooperate?", Mana replied with a wink.

"Maybe if you'd turn it off every once in a while...", Mahad muttered under his breath as he pulled a surprisingly large roast out of their tiny oven.

Kisara didn't respond, but instead picked up the poster once more. She held it for a moment and then set it aside to make room for setting the table. Sure, she could certainly work her way around a computer enough to draw up some flyers, but working for Kaiba Corp. was an entirely different animal. That place was filled with some of the best and brightest and she was neither of those things.

"Oh, come on! Just try it. It's not like you have to come up with all the technical details anyway. You just have to come up with some really cool idea and then all those professional nerds will take care of the rest!"

"I guess...", she replied, trailing off as the last plate found its place at the table.

"Well, enough of that talk. Tonight is about me.", Mahad announced, bringing over a slab of sliced meat and a large bowl of fried rice.

He had a wide look of satisfaction on his face as he placed the food on the table. He moved over to Kisara, pulled out her chair for her and then gently scooted her up to the table.

"Thank you.", Kisara told him, placing her napkin in her lap and reaching for the rice bowl, smiling widely at her friend.

"Hey! What about me?", Mana asked him, standing next to her chair expectantly.

"Oh, of course...Here you go.", Mahad replied, moving over to her chair. He pulled it out for her, purposely just a little too far. Both he and Kisara erupted in laughter as the girl sat straight down onto the floor. He offered her his hand to help her up, which she promptly refused before they both found their places at the table.

"Ugh! You're such a jerk sometimes!"' she shouted to him, pointing at him with her fork as she claimed her place at the table.

"No complaining. I bought _and _made you dinner after all.", he replied, motioning to the rather large feast before them. "It's a sad day when a man has to make his own celebratory dinner...", he mumbled, jokingly.

"Mhmm...Like you really would have wanted Mana and I to try and cook you something...". Kisara replied.

"Okay, that's probably true...But that's beside the point.", he retorted.

From there, the trio settled into a nice dinner. When they were through, not a speck of food was left on the table. Afterwards, Mana and Kisara decided that is was only far for them to clean up the kitchen. When everything was in order, Mana bid farewell to her friend and her newly-appointed boss. And, while it was never mentioned again that night, Kisara couldn't help but find her mind wandering back to that poster. Maybe she would give it a try. What did she have to lose?

_Maybe. Tomorrow._

Then, she fell asleep.


	4. Chapter III

_A/N: I'm not really sure how Mahad came to be like Raj from the Big Bang Theory with regards to women, but...what the hell. I'm going with it._

**Chapter III**

It had been four weeks, almost to the day, when Kisara received the most unexpected phone call of her life. She'd just gotten off at her stop on the way home from work when she'd felt that only-too-familiar buzzing coming from her bad. She attempted to grab it as she fumbled with her purse, her bag that held her work uniform, and a large box of baked goods that she'd been sent home with free of charge. It had been something of a kind gesture from her manager for putting up with a rather horrific afternoon.

When she finally found her way around her baggage, she slid open her phone and answered with a somewhat exasperated-sounding 'Hello.' The voice that replied was neither Mana, Mahad, nor her boss- the only three people that ever called.

Before she had a chance to ask questions, the man on the other end of the line hurriedly introduced himself and began rattling off an array of information. Kisara couldn't have kept up if she had tried, but she did hear the most important sentence out of his mouth:

"...being selected as one of the top five finalists in the amateur design contest..."

Dumbstruck, the remainder of the phone call consisted of the man (his name escaped her) relaying various forms of contact information while she struggled to reply with the occasional 'Uhuh' or 'Yessir.' He'd tried to give her phone numbers and email addresses, but they had each gone in one ear and out the other. She did, at least, catch something about coming down to the office to sign some paperwork the following week- a Wednesday. This was, in part, due to the fact that this announcement was one of the few moments in the conversation the man had waited for her to reply.

"Oh, of course. What kind of paperwork?", she asked, somewhat timidly.

"It's just for legal purposes..." He had assured her. "Your payment for your design submissions, if selected...Things of that nature. You should be receiving your official invitation to the offices by mail sometime in the next few days."

With that statement, it finally hit Kisara that this was actually happening. She was a mere four people away from a rather impressive resume booster as well as a potentially nice sum of money that could be placed towards her college fund. Suddenly, the possibility before her was positively mesmerizing. She felt her heart reacing with excitement.

As soon as the phone call ended, Kisara found herself racing away from her post at the train stop towards home as fast as her legs could carry her. Though part of her brain told her not to get too hopeful just yet, she simply couldn't help it. She was ecstatic. This was the first real opportunity that had been within reach in...well, forever. She had to tell Mahad and, of course, Mana would want to hear about the phone call as well. She knew her friend would feel, in part, responsible for this partial victory.

When she reached the door to her apartment, she paused for a moment to catch her breath. She rummaged through her bag for he keys and opened the door, her insides tumbling around with the news she was about to share. When she made her way into the kitchen, however, she found that no one was home.

"Where is he?", she asked herself aloud as she took off her shoes by the door and began to set her things down on the near, side table.

Her eyes caught sight of a scrap of paper covered in his usual tiny, scraggly handwriting. It was from Mahad.

_staying late tonight at the museum  
leftovers are in the fridge  
dont worry and dont wait up... M_

Kisara let a deep sigh escape her as she set the note aside and headed for the fridge. True to his word, Mahad had left her a container of his 'infamous' home-made sweet chicken, which she found herself dearly thankful for later. By the time she had unpacked her things and changed into something more comfortable, her anxious stomach had turned into a hungry one. She ate dinner in silence taking glances at the news headlines from the day, the flicker of the muted TV reflecting off the refrigerator door.

When she was done, she sent Mana a quick message to see what her friend was up to that night, but she received no reply. It was a Friday night, so this hadn't come as much of a surprise. Still, she felt a small stab of disappointment.

_Figures._

Without much else to do, Kisara got ready for bed early and, eventually, found herself lying on the couch, curled up in an old blanket, flipping through the channels. The channels drifted to an unfamiliar western, but Kisara's attention had drifted elsewhere. She reached down and pulled out a dusty sketchbook from underneath the couch. A pen dangled from one of the rings of the folder, tied to it with twine. She flipped through the pages until she reached one that was empty and then settled back into the cushions and began to draw.

Kisara wasn't sure how long she sat there working. She wasn't even aware that she had fallen asleep until Mahad had returned home late that night. He had gently woken her and guided her to her room. She faintly recalled the glow of the TV as she'd been pushed towards her bedroom. She heard a faint "Don't forget your medicine." as she moved through the dark. The western that had been playing as she'd drifted off had been replaced with some romantic comedy while she had been out.

When she awoke the next morning, an unusually smiley Mahad and a nice, hot breakfast greeted her. In truth, the pleasant smell was what had awoken her in the first place. He'd made rice and some hot soup and had been busy getting ready for his day when her nose and stomach had forced herself out of her bedroom. Her roommate seemed exceptionally awake, especially after his late night, Kisara was more than a little curious about his peculiar behavior. By all accounts, if she were him, she would have still been in bed.

"So, I know you don't have to be at work today. It's Saturday. Care to explain what all this is about?", Kisara asked him, motioning to unusual breakfast spread and his unusually sharp appearance.

"Well, good morning to you, too.", Mahad replied sarcastically, still going about his morning routine.

His nonchalant response caused her to roll her eyes at him as she stirred her spoon around in her soup, giving it time to cool. She knew Mahad better than anyone. That meant she knew he was up to something. Mahad would never pull out some of his best clothes for a typical Saturday. In fact, there were Saturdays where he wouldn't even pull out real clothes at all.

In their history together, those Saturdays were always announced with an adamant proclamation: No one was to do _anything_ all day and that included getting dressed. When she had still been in school and he had been working multiple part-time jobs to keep them afloat, Mahad had occasionally gone out of his way to declare such days of laziness. Each one came as a much-awaited reward from the busy and sometimes almost unbearable days that had come before. Her life had changed so much since the day she'd met him.

_All on account of some silly fireworks..., _

The story sounded so childish to her now, but then again she _had_ been a child, after all. Even so, it was her story and she loved it.

She still remembered waking up to the white walls and bright fluorescents of that tiny hospital room. There, sitting across from her, sat a wide-eyed, nervous-looking teenager, his long, brown hair dangling into his eyes. He'd been at a complete loss for words, but after his attempt at an apology (for what, she never really knew), the two had talked for what seemed like hours. One of the nurses had eventually been forced to chase him off so that Kisara could get some rest. He had come back every day after that, as soon as school would allow. When she'd been released to one of the local orphanages, he had come for her, too. That was the day she'd asked him if she could call him her 'Big Brother' to which he'd sheepishly replied with a 'Sure'.

While she rarely called him that anymore (to his face, at least), she still felt deeply attached to her role as his 'younger sister' and, as such, it was her job to pry.

"So, what's she like?", Kisara blurted out as she took her first bite of her soup.

The directness of her question caused Mahad to trip over his own feet. In his response, he marched his way over to the table and stared her straight in the face.

"Not a she. An it.", he replied, defiantly.

"Oh, so you've officially given up on women now?", Kisara asked, smirking back at him.

"No!", he retorted, pausing to collect his thoughts. He then added, somewhat hesitantly. "That's just...not what this is about."

"Mhmm.", Kisara replied sarcastically, finishing the last of her soup.

Seeing her clear disbelief, Mahad decided to let her in on his secret.

"The 'It' I was referring to is a new collection that's being delivered to the museum this morning. It's flying in directly from Cairo. It'll be the first time some of these pieces have ever been on tour, so everything is being kept very hush-hush. We were finishing up some of the last minute preparations last night, which is why I was so late."

"Ah! Well, that explains your excitement, but not your wardrobe.", she teased.

"I'm getting to it...", he replied, faux-frustration in his voice. "As the newest assistant researcher, I don't get to dive right in to the goods just yet. No, no...I've been assigned to meet the collection's curator at the airport and give him a tour of town while everyone else gets to see the collection."

"So, you're supposed to make a good first impression. I get it now.", she replied with a smile.

"Exactly. Apparently, being the newest on the team is the equivalent of drawing the short straw."

"Oh, you're very personable when you want to be. I'm sure you two will get along great. And, maybe since you're the first one he'll really meet, you'll get some VIP privileges out of it.", she encouraged with a wink.

"That would be nice."

His excitement had settled into a more nervous tension, but Kisara wasn't particularly concerned. She knew that he would be a fine tour guide and, even if he was disappointed that he didn't get the first look at the collection pieces, she doubted that he wouldn't benefit from his afternoon in some form or fashion. Mahad had a certain air of diplomacy when he needed it. Kisara actually doubted that he'd drawn the so-called short straw at all.

While she finished her breakfast, Mahad filled her in on the rest of the details. Rising political tensions overseas had made the curator eager to have the collection sent on tour. The curator had chosen to travel with the pieces and continue his research. The research team at the museum had placed a bid as soon as the offer had hit the international level and, amazingly, their bid had been accepted just days later. Mahad even believed that most places had not even gotten the chance to make an offer before the paperwork had been completed. While he clearly thought it a little odd, the excitement of the entire affair seemed to push his initial concern away.

Regardless of the circumstances surrounding its arrival, the collection was a huge opportunity for the team, including Mahad. Since the curator's research on the collection hadn't yet concluded, there was even a small chance that he could get himself involved and, if that happened, the possibilities became endless. He could be published. He could become famous. He could even get to travel.

Thus, Mahad was determined to make the best first impression possible. When he was ready to leave, Kisara had looked him over, given her approval, and wished him good luck. When the door closed behind him, Kisara realized that she hadn't even looked for an opportunity to share her good news; however, she wasn't bothered by it.

_It can wait._

Perhaps when the topic finally came up, she would be able to share that not only was she one of the finalists, she was the winner.


	5. Chapter IV

_A/N: OKAY. I'm planning on having several new chapters up this week, so get pumped. Also, the Kaiba Brothers will be making their debut NEXT chapter. I promise. Hang in there! And, last but not least, I want to extra special thank you all for your nice reviews. I really appreciate it! :D_

**Chapter IV**

After Mahad had left, most of Kisara's afternoon had been spent cleaning up the apartment. When she had run out of things to tidy, she had taken a trip to the nearby laundry. While she had waited on her clothes to rinse, she had gotten a call from Mana, an apology for not replying to her message from the night before. The poor girl had apparently been sick in bed since Thursday evening and had been asleep when the message had been delivered. Kisara had offered to bring her some soup or simply to come by and visit, but Mana had declined the invitation. She stated that there was no point in taking the train all that way just to bring her soup when she was already on track to feeling better.

When Kisara returned, she hung the laundry to dry and went to work on dinner. She was nowhere near the cook that Mahad was, but she could hold her own in the kitchen unlike her best friend. Mana was a kitchen's worst nightmare, a terror that both Kisara and Mahad had been subjected to time and time again over the course of their friendship.

Spending most of the day alone had left Kisara feeling strangely refreshed. She had felt like cooking and, luckily, there was some fish in the refidgerator waiting to be baked. When it was prepared, she slid it into the oven, set a timer, and headed for the couch.

_Now, it's time for a break..._

It seemed like she had just closed her eyes when she heard the familiar creak of the front door. She leapt up from the couch, widening her eyes to chase off the drowsiness, and headed for the kitchen. When she moved through the doorway, she found a sullen Mahad, facedown on the table with his things scattered about in the floor. His shoes were tossed aside in front of the door. She rushed over to the table and sat across from him, worried.

"Hey, a-are you okay? What happened?"

He gave no verbal response. Instead, a miserable groan came out from under the mess of hair atop the table. She scooted her chair around the table to sit next to him and placed her hand on his arm.

"It can't have been that bad. Was he-"

_"She._"

_Oh, no..._

There was a pause as Kisara absorbed the information. She knew what was about to come out of his mouth next. It never failed. Every time Mahad found himself in the company of a pretty girl, something went horribly, horribly wrong. On more than one occasion, he'd conveniently lost the ability to form proper words. He'd done everything from getting a girl stung by bees (she had been, conveniently, allergic) to slamming right into a glass door as he exited an interview (he didn't get a call back). In his younger years, he'd even made himself physically ill at the prospect of asking someone out on a date. Kisara couldn't even begin to fathom what misfortune could have befallen him today.

Before she could ask, Mahad drug his head off table to look his roommate in the eyes. He looked utterly heartbroken.

"It was awful", he began. "When I arrived to pick her up, she just stared at me. I tried to introduce myself, but you know me...And, then she just kept staring!"

He paused just long enough to place his head back on the table in defeat.

"I thought for a moment that maybe she wasn't fluent or she was a mute or something, but no! When I went to grab her luggage, she finally spoke. 'I can handle it. Thank you.' Then, nothing else for forty minutes all the way back from the airport. Do you know how long of a ride that is in complete silence?"

"What happened when you got to the museum?", Kisara inquired, slightly confused.

"Oh, that's where it gets really good.", Mahad began sarcastically. "I introduced her to the research staff and showed her to her office. She was friendly enough when she met everyone there- formal, but friendly. But, when she met the collection's manager, the first thing she asked was for _another_ assistant! I was standing right there! I heard every word!"

Kisara wasn't sure what to say. The whole thing sounded incredibly strange and, frankly, she was more focused on her confusion than tending to her roommate's wounds at the moment.

"I don't understand...", she began. "It doesn't sound like you did anything wrong."

"Well, apparently, my existing is wrong to that woman. I'll be lucky if I ever even get to look at the wooden crates her collection came in.", he replied, exasperated. After a moment, he added. "Ugh, why can't women make sense?"

"Hey, we make sense! Well, at least, I do...I think I do...", Kisara replied, trying to lighten the mood. When she got no reply, she added. "I'm sorry, big brother."

The kindness in her voice caused him to sit up once again. A small smile crossed his lips. He patted her on the shoulder to show his appreciation and got up from the table to check on the food in the oven. She returned his smile, hopeful that perhaps his fit of disappointment was behind him. He opened the oven and pulled out the fish. Its spicy aroma instantly filled the air. It smelled delicious.

"You've outdone yourself. This looks good.", he said politely.

"I hope it is. Maybe some homemade cooking will cheer you up!", she replied with a smile.

"Well, if there's one thing I've learned from being around you and Mana all these years, it's to eat your feelings.", he replied. His usual self was slowly beginning to return.

"Exactly. And, you never know. Maybe she's just as bad around attractive guys as you are around women."

"Yeah, right."

"It could happen!", she replied, defiantly. "Maybe she saw you as a potential distraction from her important research. You know how those academic-types can be..."

As she continued to try and lighten the mood, she saw Mahad's disappointment fade into a smile, eventually followed by laughter. By the time the two of them sat down to dinner, everything seemed back to normal, much to Kisara's relief.

Regardless of how silly her theory was, Mahad couldn't help but hope that maybe a part of what she said was true. He had initially been handed off to her as a personal assistant of sorts. He would have run her errands, gotten her coffee- nothing of great import. In fact, now that he thought about it, her request might actually come to benefit him. While he wouldn't have hands on access to her research notes, he would have time to dive into the actual collection pieces. What would she say if he could find something she had overlooked? The more he thought about it, the more of a challenge the situation became. If she doubted his ability, he would just have to prove his expertise.

His plan was perfect. Now, he just had to be patient.

The two conversed his newfound agenda over the fish and rice and, as the meal came to a close, Kisara felt the time was right to mention her upcoming interview. Mahad had already gotten up from the table and begun to rinse the dishes and place them on the drying rack.

"I got a phone call the other day...from Kaiba Corp.", she said, softly.

It took a moment for the words to register. When they did, Mahad instantly turned around to face the young woman, who was happily leaning against one of the kitchen chairs, rocking nervously back and forth on her toes. A soft smile found its way onto her face, widening as he waited for a reply.

"Wait, what? When?"

"Yesterday. I have an interview on Wednesday."

She watched as the news sunk in, jumping back into the conversation before he had a chance to inquire further.

"I would have told you last night, but you got home so late... And, this morning, you were so focused on picking up the curator at the airport. I just couldn't bring myself to bother you with it."

"Bother me? Kisara, this is great! Congratulations!", he told her, beaming with pride.

"Well, not exactly.", she replied, before he could continue with his praise. "Nothing's for sure yet. I'm just one of five finalists they're interviewing."

Kisara tried to remain as calm and practical about the matter as she could as she recited everything the man on the phone had told her to Mahad. Despite this, however, he could tell that she was excited and he was excited for her.

"Have you told Mana yet?"

"No!", she shouted as a reply. Mahad was slightly taken about by her forcefulness. "I mean, no, I haven't. I don't want to disappoint her if things don't work out. Besides, she's probably already forgotten about the whole thing."

"Ah.", he replied, understandingly, to her relief.

He knew as well as her how irrational Mana could be in these situations. If things worked out in Kisara's favor, they'd all rejoice together at the news, but if things didn't, she would never have to know. Kisara trusted that Mahad would take the information to the grave if needed and she'd be happy to have a friend in the know in case things didn't go in her favor. Though she'd briefly considered keeping the whole thing to herself after her evening alone, she knew he'd have a hot meal, some tea, and a nice scary movie to mend her broken spirit if needed and she'd decided against it.

"I'd actually thought about not telling you until after it was all said and done, but I wanted to ask your advice on a few things.", Kisara continued.

"Go on.", he replied, suddenly business-like.

"Well...", she started. "I've just never been to a real interview. I mean, I had interviews for the grocery and the dog walking service in high school, but nothing like this...I guess I just don't know what to expect."

"Don't expect anything.", he replied flatly.

She stared at him a moment, confused, before reiterating.

"Don't expect anything?"

"Exactly. Just be yourself. See how things play out. Don't expect things to go spectacularly, or poorly, for that matter. You'll just end up worrying about an undetermined result and you'll stop focusing on the moment. Besides, you never know how things will turn out. Just take everything one step at a time."

"I guess that makes sense.", Kisara replied, letting his words sink in.

"Now, that doesn't mean you can be complacent." He added, deliberately. "You should still try to do your best. They're a big place. I'm sure they have their interview process down to a science, so even though you might end up feeling like you're being herded instead of interviewed, don't let that get to you. You'll do great."

"I hope you're right.", she replied, softly.

Mahad could tell that her nerves were beginning to form just from their discussion, so he'd decided to make his answer short. He'd seen no point in walking her through all the details of what the interview process could be like. After all, what if he was wrong? Every business was different. He didn't want to leave her expecting one situation and ending up in another. She'd be completely thrown off. Mahad knew her well enough to tell that all she needed to prepare was a little bit of confidence. She didn't need to practice any questions or a speech. She just needed to relax.

"I am. I mean, if I can get a job, I _know_ you can.", he concluded, as he set the last dish on the drying rack and turned to leave the room. Just before he stepped out, he had one last thought.

"Oh, one more thing- don't sign _anything_ unless you read it first. Otherwise, you might end up signing over your soul. You know how these corporate suits can be...", he added, slight sarcasm lining his words.

"You got it."


	6. Chapter V

_A/N: I apologize for not getting this chapter out as early as I had planned. I ended up working through it twice, so I hope it is worth the wait. There's a lot going on in the next few installments, so bear with me as I work to get everything as perfect as I can. And, of course, thank you for your continued support! :) Enjoy!_

**Chapter V**

For Kisara, the days and hours that lead up to Wednesday's interview seemed to blur together. The majority of that time had been spent between work and running errands. When the weekend had come to a close, Mahad had been swept back into his work both at school and at the museum. With the collection now present, it came as no surprise that Kisara would need to be picking up a few extra chores in Mahad's absence.

The lack of free time had been good for her nerves. She'd hardly had time to worry and, aside from picking out her clothes, she hadn't spent much time concerning herself with the upcoming meeting at all. The calm, however, began to dissipate as Tuesday night rolled in.

When Kisara arrived home from work, Mahad already had a light dinner on the table. He sat at the table flipping through the stacks of papers and notebooks that were strewn across the entire tabletop. The two exchanged greetings and a quick "How was your day?" before Kisara plated her dinner and retreated to her room in order to let him work in peace. When dinner was done, she left her dishes on the corner of her desk and fell onto her bed with a satisfied sigh. There was nothing left to do to prepare for tomorrow but wait.

While sleep seemed enticing, it was still early in the evening and Kisara had enough trouble sleeping without messing with her schedule. To pass the time, she spent the rest of the evening in her room, flipping through a collection of old sketchbooks she had stashed underneath her mattress. Each time she dug through her old work, she was amazed at how much she'd improved since she was a little girl. She'd always loved to draw and she'd spent more hours than she could count staring out of her bedroom window, both at the orphanage and at her home prior, sketching the people she saw walking by. When she and Mahad had become close, she'd started drawing him, too. Kisara had been embarrassed to show him her work for quite a while, out of fear that he'd be offended. But once, on his birthday, she'd drawn and colored a picture of the two of them and given it to him as a gift. He'd liked it so much that he took her out for ice cream.

She flipped through a multitude of drawings of people, many of which she no longer recognized. Some were undoubtedly old friends from her stay at the orphanage. Some were some friends from high school, but others were simply passersby. Those were always her favorite. Sometimes, she liked to give them stories about where they were going or who they were headed to see. Kisara had also taken up cartooning when she'd become confident enough in her work. Caricatures of Mahad and Mana were crammed in between the pages, along with some rather unflattering sketches of her old caretaker, Miss Tanaka. There were also plenty of landscapes. The scenery in each changed with the seasons, as did her skill, she noted. The further she moved through the pages, the less impressive her work became. Crisp-looking leaves turned into blotches of orange and red and, folded up towards the back, she found a rather childish sketch of a snowy day. The lack of color and detail almost made the drawing unidentifiable, but Kisara remembered it well. She'd drawn it one of the first times she'd ever seen it snow. A sadness crept across her face as she stared down at the gently folded paper.

_"Why can't I go outside?"_

She never understood why he hadn't let her go play outside that day or any day for that matter. There had always been an excuse. In the years since she'd left, Kisara had told herself that he'd simply been over-protective, that losing her mother had been what caused him to be that way. But, it didn't matter now in any case. Days had turned to months which had turned into years. He'd never come looking for her. She briefly wondered why.

It was rare now that Kisara even thought about her first home. So much had happened since that time and there were so many things in the here and now that begged for her attention. Still, though the details had begun to fade, the feelings did not. Even after all the time Kisara and Mahad had been together, there was still so little she had shared with him about her life before they had met. Being the person that he was, he had never outright asked. He'd given her space and simply learned to accept the breadcrumbs of information she dropped over the years without so much as a single complaint. When she really thought about it, Kisara become overwhelmed with guilt. But, even so, she just couldn't bring herself to make the words come out.

With a sigh, she crumpled the old drawing and tossed it into the wastebasket by the door. By the time, darkness fell and Kisara climbed into bed, the wastebasket was full of crumpled pieces of paper. Everything she'd drawn before she'd left home was to be thrown out. The morning was the beginning of what Kisara hoped would be a new chapter in her life and she wanted to wake up with nothing holding her back. While the drawings themselves didn't hold much power, the physical act of tossing paper across the room had been somewhat of a cleansing and it had given her some confidence.

When morning came, the pleasant smell of breakfast awoke her. She drug herself out of bed and went into the kitchen to find a rather impressive spread waiting for her. Though Mahad was no where to be seen, everything was still warm. She'd just missed him. Instead of waking her, he'd left her a small, poorly-written note beside her plate that wished her good luck. She ate and dressed and gathered her things. Then, she headed off to the grocery. She'd scheduled her shift to end just after lunch to make sure she had plenty of time to make trip across town. It wasn't very far, but Kisara wanted to make sure she was on time. Punctuality was a quality she prided herself on.

Her shift at the grocery seemed to last a life time. When the hour finally approached, Kisara rushed to clock out and then headed into the restroom to change. But, where were her clothes?

_Oh, no…I didn't. Please, please tell me I didn't…_

Kisara dumped her bag out on the counter and nervously shuffled through her things until she was forced to accept her situation. She'd forgotten her clothes this morning. Between the extremes of a delicious breakfast and a nervous bout of nausea, she'd been blissfully unaware that she'd left without them. Kisara was certain she'd find them neatly folder on top of her dresser right where she'd left them the night before. Suddenly, she felt sick. There certainly wasn't enough time for her to rush home and change without risking being late. What would be worse? She'd didn't know. It hardly mattered now anyway. There was no way she'd make the first impression she needed dressed like a grocery cashier.

_I can't not go… I guess it won't hurt to try. Maybe they'll understand..._

Disheartened, she pulled herself together, cramming her things back in her bag and snuck out the back towards the station. She didn't want to have to face her coworkers and their well-wishes. The ride across down seemed short. Too short. She'd hadn't had enough time to mentally pull herself together yet, but there it was- the Kaiba Corp. office. People wandered in and out of its large glass doors dressed in their business finest. And there she was, standing in front of it looking forlorn and out of place, wearing some wrinkled black pants and a white button up shirt that sported the grocery's logo on it. At least she had been able to ditch the bright green apron.

_Alright, Kisara. Here goes nothing..._

Her mind told her legs to move, but for some reason, they ignored her. Frustrated, she sighed aloud.

"Umm, you lost?"

The voice came from behind her. It completely caught her off guard. Kisara spun around as quickly as she could to find herself faced with a boy. He was no more than fourteen or fifteen at most, she guessed. They were equal in height, though he was definitely quite a bit younger. He'd clearly hopped out of a parked car that sat behind him, pulled up close to the curb. Dressed casually with a backpack thrown over one shoulder, he looked even more out of place than she did. Yet, of all the people around, he had been the one to approach her. The boy tried to hide a laugh and, when Kisara failed to find appropriate words, the boy attempted to smooth over her awkward reaction.

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to scare you or anything. You just looked a little lost, so I thought I'd check."

"Oh, no! I'm not. I'm just- I have an interview and I was just on my way inside.", she spurted out at him, waving her arms about widely as she attempted an explanation.

Her embarrassment was painfully obvious. Kisara instantly realized that she'd made a fool of herself. She'd been so lost in her attempts to propel herself towards the front door that she'd made herself a target for kindhearted passersby. It would have been insane to admit that she'd just been to terrified to walk through a door. He'd think she was crazy, especially at his age, but she also appreciated his kindness, even if it hadn't been needed. When she finally pulled herself together, she let out and exasperated apology.

"I'm sorry. I'm just a little nervous."

This time the boy actually laughed at her.

"I got you. No worries! But, an interview, huh? What for?", he asked, as he walked past her and began heading towards the front door. When she didn't immediately follow, he stopped and turned around to check on her. Kisara once again looked confused. Their eyes met and they stared at each other until she finally realized why he was waiting for her. They were both heading for the same place. She rushed forward to catch up to him and the two made their way through the glass double doors.

"Well, it's not _really_ a job interview, I guess. I just entered the design contest a few weeks back and I got a call saying someone wanted to meet with me."

"Oh, yeah? That's awesome!", the boy replied, sounding both impressed and excited. "What'd you turn in?"

"Nothing much."

That was the first thing out of her mouth as a reply. In truth, she hadn't really felt like her work had been that noteworthy. It had just been some sketches of a few well known duel monsters, drawn from all angles with as many details and she could squeeze onto the page. She'd also thrown in some designs for a few posters and flyers advertising a made-up tournament. Each one featured a sketch or caricature of a duel monster on it. She'd spent a long time on each piece and, while she hadn't felt confident in her submissions, she had been rather impressed with herself. They were easily some of her best works to date.

"If you're a finalist, that can't be true.", the boy retorted. He looked at her with a smile and continued. He hadn't be satisfied with her answer. "Please tell me you're the one who drew the blue-eyes!"

_How did he…?_

The surprised look on her face must have given her away. The boy's smile widened and he continued before she even had time to answer…or ask, for that matter.

"I figured that was you. You just didn't look the part of a computer geek."

Kisara felt her face twist up a little at his words. That was sort of a compliment, right? But, was that good thing? If she clearly stood out here, was she doomed from the start? And how did he know so much about her entry anyway? How many people had seen her work? Sure, she knew that a judge panel would have to review her entry, but she was surprised that this boy had seen her work. That thought made her stomach lurch. She considered her work very private and the thought of her samples being passed around made her feel somewhat violated. Still, she shook the thought and turned back to the boy. It was no use worrying about it now. Besides, her curiosity was getting the best of her.

"So, how did you know about- "

Before the words had completely come out, they had made their way through the large lobby and up to the front counter. She received a slight nod from one of the men behind the desk, who's attention was pulled to the boy beside her before she had a chance to acknowledge him. He greeted him jovially with a bow.

"Mr. Mokuba, sir."

_Mokuba…?_

"Hey there! Anything going on today I should know about?", the boy replied, giving nods and waves to the remaining employees behind the counter, each of which had paused their work to smile and wave at his approach. Before the man behind the counter could respond, a well-dressed, sharp-looking, middle-aged woman snuck up behind him and reached over the counter towards Mokuba. She handed him a manilla folder and then spoke.

"Mr. Kaiba's in a meeting for another hour or so, but he had these sent down for you to pick up when you arrived."

_Kaiba._

Mokuba quickly flipped through the pages and let out a huge sigh before tossing the folder right back on the counter in front of the secretary.

"Oh, come on! I told him I didn't need any more practice sheets!", he told her, furiously. "Doesn't he have something more important for me to do?"

He was met with a sharp reply. "Not until you've improved your math score. I'm sorry, sir."

"Whatever."

Mokuba rolled his eyes and signed before grabbing the folder off the counter. He then turned back to see that Kisara was still standing there. She'd silently watched the entire exchange. He quickly turned back towards the secretary and spoke.

"Hey, Miss Mori, my friend here has an interview scheduled for about now. It's for the design contest. Mind if I show her up?", he asked her, nodding towards the silent Kisara as he spoke. At his words, the secretary, Miss Mori, raised an eyebrow and looked Kisara over. Her piercing gaze almost felt physically painful. After a short moment, she turned back to Mokuba and then back to Kisara and spoke.

"Miss…?", the secretary began.

"Kisara."

"Miss Kisara, did you not receive a phone call late last week about the cancelation?"

"Cancelation?", Kisara replied, looking confused. Before she could continue, Miss Mori continued.

"Yes. I'm sorry to inform you that the design contest has been suspended until further notice. Your entry should have been returned to you in the mail. They were sent out on Friday."

"Wait, what? Since when?", Mokuba inquired, sounded just as confused as Kisara.

"Since Thursday of last week."

"But, why? We'd already selected the finalists. The position was set to start on Monday!", Mokuba asked, sounding increasingly frustrated.

"I'm afraid I can't answer that. You'll have to take that up with Mr. Kaiba."

Mokuba turned around just in time to see Kisara's face drop as she absorbed the news. She was heartbroken. She'd been denied the position before she'd even walked through the door. In fact, she'd been worrying over a contest that had ended, winner-less, days ago.

_Figures._

Kisara was pulled back into reality by Mokuba's voice. He was arguing with Miss Mori.

"Well, my brother put _me_ in charge of the design contest. I don't know why he canceled it without telling me, but as of now, it's back on." He then turned around to see blank-faced Kisara and continued.

"And, since you're the only one who showed up to the interview. Congratulations! You got the position.", he added with a smile for Kisara and a smirk for the secretary. "Now, let me show you to your new office!"

It was clear at the point that Miss Mori was in no position to tell him no. Instead, the secretary just stared, dumbfounded as Mokuba excitedly latched onto Kisara and started leading her towards the elevator. Kisara noted that he'd purposely left the manilla folder on the counter, right in front of Miss Mori.

_Mokuba. Mokuba Kaiba._

Suddenly, everything made sense.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

"Mr. Kaiba. I just thought I should inform you that Mr. Mokuba just hired a new intern. He's assigning her to a vacant office on the 5th floor."

"He did what?"

"Would you like me to take care of it, sir?"

"No."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll take care of it."


	7. Chapter VI

_A/N: Well, here's the next chapter. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it, but I hope you guys enjoy it and please let me know if you have any suggestions! Also, I apologize for being a little late with this one, but it is long and I worked really hard on it, so I hope it's okay. Thanks! :)_

**Chapter VI **

It was a fairly typical Wednesday afternoon. Seto had spent his morning pouring over his books, while the afternoon had be booked up with meetings about the upcoming mass expansion of Kaiba Land. One pathetic speaker after another had nervously vied for Seto's attention and, more importantly, approval. While he had no problem appearing attentive throughout, his judgement for each presentation had been made before most of the poor fools had even taken the floor. They didn't know it, of course, but he'd been briefed on all of the day's presentations when he'd entered his office that morning and had been well read on the subjects weeks before the meetings were even called. No one knew this business better than he did. He made sure of that. If it was up to him, Seto would have been happier to not even hold these conferences, but they were simply a part of the role he had to play. There was a man standing awkwardly in front of a large digital backdrop fumbling around for his notes when Seto's phone had gone off with two short buzzes, just enough to inform him of the call without drawing attention to himself and away from the meeting. There were only two people who's phone calls would have even been passed through to his cell during a meeting- Mokuba or his secretary, Miss Mori. Because of this, he seriously doubted that the call was placed about something trivial. As the current speaker awkwardly made his way through the remaining slides without his accompanying notes, apparently lost, Seto decided to cut him short. He respectfully declined the offer and then took the pause created as his response was processed to gracefully excused himself to the hallway outside the board room. He was met with a few looks of confusion, both about his refusal of the most recent pitch and his untimely exit. None of them concerned him. As the door closed behind him, Seto heard a few of his men attempting to pull the meeting back together as another man's shaky voice began yet another presentation.

Part of him was glad he'd been given an excuse to remove himself from the endless line of pitches. But another part, though small, always held a twinge of worry whenever he was interrupted like this. Thought threats against himself, Mokuba, and even his company seemed few and far between these days, he simply couldn't help the passing thought, though logical usually waved it away seconds later. When he looked down at his phone to see the identity of the caller, he was met with a rather disengaged-looking photograph of his secretary followed by her name in large, bold print. He hit redial and was met with her usual tone after barely making it through the first ring. They didn't exchange greetings. Instead, she proceeded directly to the purpose of her call.

"Mr. Kaiba, I just thought I should inform you that Mr. Mokuba just hired a new intern. He's assigning her to a vacant office on the 5th floor.

"He did what?"

"Would you like me to take care of it?"

"No."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll take care of it."

Neither he nor she waited for any further response. Such departures were the norm for them. Seto hung up the phone with a sigh.

_Mokuba..._

Before turning around to head back into the black hole on the other side of board room door, Seto took another moment to consider what he'd just heard. He knew exactly what had happened. Someone hadn't gotten the news that the design contest had been suspended. That, or someone hadn't taken it well. Either way, a disappointed potential intern would have been just another slight inconvenience. That is, it _would_ have been until Mokuba had seen fit to involve himself. Seto had planned on talking with his brother about the suspension as soon as all of his meetings for the week were over. It seemed that such events always had impeccably bad timing. Several important guests had flown in for the first part of the week to discuss the expansion of Kaiba Land into the international market, which was turning out to be an undertaking that even Seto had slightly underestimated. When he had reviewed all the paperwork and numbers the week prior, he had made the decision that the design contest, the tournament that was to be the culmination of it, as well as the announcement that went along with the two, were all simply going to have to wait. Though frustrated with the postponement for reasons of his own, Seto was not disappointed at having to shoo away a restless group of blood thirsty interns. After things with Kaiba Land were settled, he could hire and distribute the work for the tournament wherever he saw fit instead of dispatching it to what he considered to be under-qualified, over-paid hobbyists.

The design contest had become an extremely unappealing annual affair. When Mokuba had presented the idea two years ago, Seto, being the bother that he was, had given the idea his full consideration. Mokuba claimed that such a contest would bring a sense of connection between a community and the corporation. It would garner good publicity and it would allow them to potentially tap into an untouched talent pool in their own backyard. While the idea made some sense, Seto had said no. But Mokuba had persisted. It was rare that Mokuba fought with his brother when it concerned their business, but the boy had kept at it until, reluctantly, Seto had assigned a small team to set up the contest. It would feature a short internship as the first prize with the winner being assigned to a team that best suited their skills. On the business end of things, the entire process had gone off without a hitch. Seto had expected no less. It had been the winner that had caused the problem. Announcements had been made. All the entires had been reviewed. Then, just a few weeks later, a winner had been chosen and offered a position on an advertising team that was set to promote Kaiba Land, which at the time, had just begun to grow its roots locally. A few weeks later, that intern quit, citing that the workload had been unbearable and that he had been treated unfairly. The story had made national news, though measures had been taken to keep it out of the international eye. While the matter was eventually settled with minimal loss, it had still wasted time and money. Seto hated that. The following year had ended much the same in his eyes. This time, the contest winner was assigned to work with a team on an array of new holographic technologies. While the intern had neither quit or made a public statement against her employer, her work had been subpar in comparison to the rest of the design team. While many would expect no less from an intern, Seto felt that she had been paid simply to occupy space and slow the rest of the team down. To him, the only thing worse that not getting something done was getting something done inefficiently.

A year later, when summer began to come to an end, the media and the public eye both looked expectantly for signs that the contest was to be renewed. It had become something of a local spectacle, a potential rags-to-riches story for any hopefully talent. That was when Mokuba had suggested that he manage the entire thing himself this time around. At the time, Seto had been dead set against wasting the resources on the affair again, especially with the contest's previous results; however, Mokuba had presented a good case. The boy claimed that the past years had lacked definitive leadership and direct supervisor involvement and he stated that as the reason details had slipped through the cracks. Mokuba wanted to be directly involved. He wanted to help choose the winner and actually work with them. He saw it as a chance to really prove that he could manage a project, a large and complex one at that, and have more people around the office view him as the manager he would surely become. Sure, Mokuba had helped with tournaments in the past, but he'd never gotten to manage his own team exclusively. It was true that Mokuba wasn't a child anymore, a fact that was being pulled to the forefront much more frequently these days. In the end, it had been his confidence in his brother that had allowed the 'Okay' to pass Seto's lips.

It has also been Mokuba that had been the reason Seto, even if only for a moment, had hesitated about canceling this year's contest when it had come to light that the company's vast resources were about to be stretched thinner than he was comfortable with. In the end, he had decided to suspend it, not cancel it, though, and surely that counted for something in his brother's eyes. Seto certainly did not want it to seem that he'd changed his mind about Mokuba's readiness. That wasn't the case. Regardless, Seto's decision on the matter had come to light earlier than he had planned and it was apparent now that it was going to take more than a few words to convince Mokuba to let the project sit still for a while. Of course, Seto knew that he would always have the final word, but somehow force seemed a less desirable option than usual.

After heading back to the meetings, another hour or so ticked by before the list of presenters evaporated for the day. While they were behind schedule, there was only so much he and his staff could take in one sitting and there were other matters that Seto needed to attend to. As soon as he was able, without seeming inattentive and rushed, Seto excused himself from the conversations and caught the elevator to head downstairs. When the elevator opened to the fifth floer, a small crowd of surprised looking employees parted the way to let him through the doors. Each greeted him with a bow or nod of the head, all of which he ignored. He could feel the crowd watching him move down the hallway as they waited on the elevator door to close. It wasn't often that the head of the company found his way out of his office, save for a meeting. While Seto did take great interest in what was going on in his company on all levels, it was impossible for him to be everywhere at once and no one expected him to be. It was usually that mindset that allowed work to be brought to him, not the other way around.

As he rounded one of the corners towards another row of offices, he heard the sharp pitch of his brother's voice, excitedly going on about something unintelligible at his current distance. The voice was coming from a door, half-open, on the left at the end of the hall. As he got closer, he occasionally heard a woman's voice chime in between the bursts of his brother's boisterous chatter.

When he reached the doorway, he found a woman sitting at an empty desk. Her attention was sharply focused on whatever was in front of her and his brother standing behind her, eagerly watching over her shoulder, leaning forward more with each second that passed.

"Wow! That one's even better than the last one!", Mokuba exclaimed, completely absorbed into whatever is was the woman was doing.

"It's alright, I guess. It would be a lot better if _someone_ wasn't so impatient, you know." the woman replied with kind sarcasm and a laugh

As she finished her sentence, she turned her gaze to look at Mokuba, who was still smiling and laugher at her response. It was then that she noticed a tall, silent figure standing in the doorway. Her eyes widened and she fell silent, suddenly caught off guard. Mokuba noticed her eyes move past him towards the door and turned to investigate for himself. His eyes widened as well when they met those of his brother.

"Brother!", Mokuba shouted to him.

His voice sounded pleased and he was, at that moment. Mokuba had been aware that his brother was scheduled to be busy all day and he was always happy when Seto turned up earlier than expected. He rushed up to the door to greet him, but as he approached, Mokuba's excitement shifted back into the mixture of frustration and confusion that had plagued him earlier that afternoon. He lowered his voice, but he kept he gaze on his older brother firm.

"Seto, you canceled the contest? And you didn't even tell me?", Mokuba asked, his voice more hushed now, but still loud enough for Kisara to overhear.

Her eyes had instantly turned to the stack of papers she held her in hands as soon as she'd made eye contact with the figure in the doorway. A second was all it took for the realization to sink in. She, and probably half the world as well, would have recognized that face anywhere.

_Seto Kaiba._

Kisara was a little surprised to find that most all of the television interviews and newspaper headlines the CEO had graced with his presence weren't far off from the real thing. He looked much the same in person. He was a bit taller than she'd expected, though everyone seemed tall to her, and his severe eyes gave away his fatigue, though his demeanor attempted to conceal it. A nervousness had begun to settle in the pit of her stomach even after his attention had turned to his brother. When she'd seen him standing in that door, she could only think of one reason he would be there: he was about to fire her. She'd been so swept up in Mokuba's entertaining that she'd forgotten that there was another Kaiba, more importantly the one who had the final word. She took a deep breath and began to try and think things through.

_Okay, Kisara, let's not be so self-centered. He wouldn't have come here for you. He would have just sent someone to fire you. He came here for Mokuba._

Kisara convinced herself that that was a fair point. She seriously doubted that the man the media portrayed Seto Kaiba to be would spend the free moments of his day firing interns. He had more important things to worry about, she was sure of that much. But, even so, he'd known exactly where Mokuba would be, which meant that he'd undoubtedly been told of Mokuba's scene at the front desk. Moreover, since he'd made time to come discuss the situation with him, Kisara doubted that he'd agreed with his brother's decision. On the other hand, Kisara had also seen how passionate and upset Mokuba had been when he'd heard that his brother had postponed the contest. She doubted the boy would just let everything go. He seemed as though he genuinely liked her and h'd even gone to all the trouble of helping her get settled.

When the two of them had left the lobby, Mokuba had shown her her new office and had then decided to take her on a whirlwind tour of each of his favorite departments. Each visit had been filled with grandiose stories about who and what went on there. The tour had been nice and, when they found their way back to the fifth floor, she'd been greeted by a stack of paperwork for new hires, which Mokuba had requested be waiting for them upon their return. He had attempted to walk her through each section, though, in reality, he'd been more of a distraction than a help. She'd appreciated his company and conversation all the same. When her name had been affixed to every possible blank space, Kisara had been asked for a favor in return for the so-called VIP tour of Kaiba Corp earlier that afternoon. Thus, Kisara had been coerced into drawing several of Mokuba's favorite duel monsters in the margins of her paperwork. She'd been hesitant about it at first, but Mokuba had convinced her that no one really even looked over all the pages anyway. They would be set in a file folder somewhere and forgotten forever. No one would be the wiser. Despite his reassurance, as she held the pack of papers in her hand now, to say she felt embarrassed would have been an understatement. Not only had she spent all that time filling out paperwork for a job she hadn't really been approved for yet, she'd covered them in doodles.

And so, there was Kisara, sitting silent and awkward, about to witness a personal family argument with no way out and nothing to do but stare at a stack of graffitied papers and pretend she couldn't hear them discuss her fate just three feet away.

_This is just great._

"Mokuba-", the older Kaiba began.

"You could have at least told me, you know? At home or at dinner or anywhere. I would have understood.", said Mokuba, cutting him short.

"Mokuba.", Seto replied, his voice more stern this time. His eyes narrowed and never left his brother's.

At that, Mokuba's expressions softened. The two brother's stared at each other for a moment longer. Then, it was Mokuba who caved and averted his eyes, allowing his gaze to travel to his feet. Seto continued to watch him, as expressionless as before. After a moment longer, it was Mokuba who broke the silence.

"I'm sorry." He paused, sighing. "I just…I don't get it. What did I do wrong?"

"The contest was suspended, not canceled."

In truth, Seto had been rather taken aback by how his brother had handled the situation. He had expected a fight, not an apology. The statement spoke volumes. Mokuba just stared up at his brother, who seemed to be waiting on some sort of response. When all he received was a confused look, he continued.

"Two of the teams that were assigned to your contest are going to be needed for our work on Kaiba Land. I had my secretary file away the contestant paperwork to renew it after that was done."

"But I thought…"

"You thought wrong.", Seto replied. His tone hadn't changed at all, but Kisara noticed that his expression had softened some what. It was a change that Mokuba noticed, too.

"I'm sorry, Seto."

"It's fine."

His response was short as his focus had already shifted to the third person in the room, the young woman a few feet away who had been pouring over the same document since he'd stepped through the doorway. Kisara felt his eyes fall on her, but she didn't look up, instead choosing to pretend she hadn't noticed the half-interested glare she knew he was giving her. It took a moment, but as soon as Mokuba noticed that his brother's attention had turned, the boy raced over to Kisara in order to bring her forward. The boy pulled the paperwork out of her hand and tossed the stack onto the desk behind him. He then grabbed her hand and pulled her up out of her chair, much to her dismay, and drug her over to where the older Kaiba stood, looking as uninterested as ever.

"Seto, this is who I hired as the contest winner!", Mokuba announced jovially. "She's an artist, a really good one, too. I know I was going to have to go through all five interviews, anyway, but I'd already decided that her entry was it." He turned to Kisara to smile and then turned back to his brother, who had raised his eyebrows at the two as they approached. It was Seto's faint smirk that made Mokuba realize that he was still holding onto Kisara's hand. He quickly let go, awkwardly, and then proceeded to fall behind Kisara, pushing her forward to meet Seto, finally allowing the two to greet each other.

"This is Kisara.", he announced.

"Mr. Kaiba."

Kisara greeted him kindly, her voice breathy from a combination of nerves and embarrassment. She bowed low and long. When she received no response from him, she felt compelled to explain herself. Still bowing her head, she spoke.

"I'm terribly sorry for putting your brother in this position. Please don't let today serve as a precedent for my time here. I really want this opportunity and I'd be more than happy to make amends however I can for the confusion I've caused."

It was only after she got her apology off her chest that she felt comfortable meeting his gaze. When she did, the two simply stood there, silent, for what seemed like an eternity. Kisara looked expectantly for a reply, a confirmation that she hadn't offended her potential boss, a nod of approval…anything really. Meanwhile, Seto's expression had remained, for the most part, unchanged. He said nothing, but Kisara did notice that the man across from her looked slightly… uncomfortable. She debated on what to say, but in the end, it was Mokuba who decided to step in next to Kisara and break the silence.

"So, can she stay? We went by the digital design studio and everyone seemed really excited to have an actual artist on board. Oh, and she's got all her paperwork filled out, too! I can get Miss Mori to send up a copy of her entry if you want to see if for yourself."

It took Seto a moment to shift his gaze back to his younger brother. When he did, he spoke.

"Where's her paperwork?"

"Right here."

_Oh, no. No, no, no!_

Kisara was silent, her gaze shifting from her feet to Mokuba and then back to the ground as she watched the boy step over to the desk behind him and Kisara and grab her paperwork he'd tossed aside earlier. He handed the large stack to his brother, who grabbed them and began to flip through as soon as he received them. Kisara saw his face flash from its usual neutral expression to faint surprise to a frown as he examined the collection of duel monster doodles splattered across the pages. He looked first to Mokuba, who simply smiled back at him unknowingly, and then to the young woman, Kisara, who's face seemed to have gone pale. He couldn't imagine why...

"Hmpf."

He stopped flipping halfway through and sighed heavily. Kisara waited for him to hand them back to her, but instead, he kept the papers with him as he turned and headed out the door.

"Come on, Mokuba."

Mokuba paused for a moment to turn to Kisara, both of them wearing matching expressions of pleasant confusion. He hadn't handed back her paperwork. But, did that mean she was safe? A smile slowly made its way across Mokuba's face. The boy followed his brother out the door and looked back to make sure Kisara was following. He motioned her forward and the three of them made their way towards the elevator with Seto out front and Kisara quietly trailing behind. As they walked, Seto got out his phone and proceeded to place a call.

"I'm sending Mokuba and the intern he hired down to the lobby… No, I have what I need…Three weeks should be enough…"

He continued listening into his phone as the group found their way to the elevator. A swipe of a keycard and a few seconds later, the large metal doors opened to let them in. Seto stepped to the side, his eyes motioning for his brother and his intern to enter. The two did, but Seto did not seem intent on joining them. Just before the doors closed, Mokuba's eyes met his brother's once more. Seto nodded in reply as he stood waiting for the next elevator and then went back to his phone call.

"Monday."

With that, the doors shut. It took no time at all for the elevator to move from the fifth floor to the lobby. When the doors opened, a rather happy Mokuba flew out of the doors, followed by Kisara, who was unsure whether to feel utterly humiliated or completely ecstatic. The tall, intimidating figure that was Miss Mori came out from behind the front desk to meet the pair as soon as she saw them coming. She approached carrying a rather impressive set of manilla folders, her eyes fixated on Kisara in much the same way that Seto had looked at her earlier. It was a gaze that was both frightening and captivating. When the three came together, Miss Mori promptly handed over the set of manilla folders to Kisara and began speaking.

"Alright, Miss Kisara. As per Mr. Kaiba's request, here is the rest of your new hire packet. It's mostly some basic information and some legal documentation you'll need to review. Be sure you do. You'll be here on a provisionary basis for the first three weeks. Do not take that lightly."

The information came as both a shock and an immense relief. Somehow, she'd done it. She'd actually been hired at Kaiba Corp. Mokuba stood next to her, smiling widely, clearly pleased with the outcome of the meeting with his brother. Frankly, it amazed Kisara that so much had been shared between the two of them in so few words. Regardless of how they got there, the resolution was the same. She was to be an official Kaiba Corp employee, the winner of the third annual design contest, suspended or not.

"You'll be reviewed at the end of that period and, if all goes well, you'll be permitted to fulfill the remainder to the promoted internship on a full-time basis. You'll start Monday at eight o'clock. Be here at half-past seven at the latest that first day, as you'll need to be badged and briefed. Do you have any questions?"

"I… Uh, no. Thank you."

"Then, congratulations. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have four contestants to inform of the contest's cancelation. We'll see you back here on Monday morning."


End file.
